


my brother's keeper

by peachsneakers



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Creativitwins, Creativity splitting apart, Gen, He doesn't mean to be butttttt, Hurt/Comfort, Intrusive Thoughts, Morally Neutral Deceit Sanders, Remus typical stuff, Sibling Bonding, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Sympathetic Remus Sanders, The & means it's platonic, unsympathetic Patton Sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 13:37:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20359408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachsneakers/pseuds/peachsneakers
Summary: Once upon a time, they were one.





	my brother's keeper

Once upon a time, there was one Creativity.

But then Thomas drew himself electrocuting his brother. And dreamed about zombies invading his home town. And remembered the sharks on the Discovery Channel that he'd seen last week and wondered what it felt like to have your arm chewed off by one.

It scared Patton. Morality was all about good and evil, right and wrong, black and white.

And Morality thought something was wrong with Creativity.

He doesn't mean to. (It means nothing to Remus, knowing that, but Roman _tries_ to take solace in it, when he's curled up in the middle of the bed he used to share with himself, when he used to be one person, before the split. Before Remus was taken away.)

Intent doesn't mean much. Not when Creativity feels the biggest pain he has ever felt in his life, when a shriek tears free from his throat-

And one becomes two, sprawling on the floor and staring at each other with baffled, hurt eyes.

"Who are you?" The red-and-white-garbed one asks, his voice shaking.

"I could ask you the same thing," the green-and-black one blurts out. As if on a count to three, the two chorus as one.

"Creativity!"

They find themselves clinging to each other, soaking each other's shoulders with their tears, because there is a chasm, a hole that can never be put back together, and they don't know _why_.

It doesn't take long for the others to find out. Logic is quietly horrified. He stands there adjusting his glasses with shaking hands, his gaze switching from one twin to the next, as if to catalog their differences. Patton is loudly horrified, but even Roman can see the wobbly, guilty relief in the back of Patton's eyes. (Remus hates him for it.)

"You can't stay here," Patton says. "It doesn't make _sense_. You aren't _like_ us."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Roman shoots back, standing protectively in front of his brother, his fists clenched. "He's just as much like _me_ as anyone else! We aren't supposed to _be two people, Morality!_"

Patton gasps, taking a step back. His eyes shine wetly behind his glasses.

"No, you're not," he admits. "But you _are_ two people."

"He'll be happier with me," the other side says quietly. His eyes flick around the scene as he pulls the too-long cape around his shoulders, one snake eye glittering at Patton. "I won't try to make him be someone he's not."

But they get one last night. Deceit is not so cruel as to rip them asunder so quickly, no matter what Patton's panicky exhortations demand. Patton is scared of Remus, and Roman can't understand why.

"I'm scared," Remus admits that night, when they're both curled up in the king-sized bed, in opposing pajamas. Roman thinks he could grow to hate the color red very quickly.

"Me, too," Roman says. "But- It's okay! We'll still be brothers, right? They can't take that away from us!" _Like they took away being whole._

"Right," Remus says.

They're wrong.

"I don't think your brother is a good influence on you," Patton says, worrying his bottom lip as he stares at the sketches on Roman's desk. "That- We don't want Thomas to _hurt_ anyone."

"It _wouldn't_ hurt anyone," Roman argues. "They're just _drawings_, Patton! It's just thoughts! Thoughts can't hurt Thomas!"

"Yes, they _can_!" Patton bursts out. "He has nightmares and he feels bad and it _is_ hurting him!"

"Hurting him?" Roman asks, his voice a near-growl. "Or hurting _you_?"

Remus wilts every time he comes back from seeing his brother. Deceit and Virgil learn not to question why after the first time he summons his morningstar and crashes it into the wall.

"It's not _fair_," he howls at the water-spotted ceiling, his bottom lip quivering. Virgil realizes with a start that Thomas's baby teeth decorate the front of Remus's outfit. "I don't want to hurt Thomas. I just want to be _me_."

"You will have your chance," Deceit soothes.

"When?" Remus demands. But not even the dishonest side can spin a lie fast enough.

Thomas grows up. Remus's power waxes and wanes. _What would happen if you jumped out of a moving car?_

_Ever wanted to kill your brother?_

_Ooh! Wanna drive over the edge of that cliff?_

_I wonder what our bones look like under our skin._

_I wonder-_

_I wonder-_

He takes pride in each twisted, creative thought, wondering what Roman would think of his work. They don't visit each other much now. Roman's been thoroughly corrupted by the _others_, as Remus now so disdainfully refers to them. But Remus can see the truth behind Roman's shining eyes.

He's just terrified that Patton will throw him out, too.

Then Virgil leaves, driven to the others by Thomas's growing awareness and acceptance of him as a concept, and Remus hates life this way a little more. It's not the same without the storm cloud and he _knows_ Deceit feels the same way. The dark feels a little too dark now, and Deceit doesn't play off Remus the same way Virgil does.

Deceit tries to influence Thomas more directly, but it doesn't work. Remus knows as soon as Deceit reappears, cursing so fluently the air around him seems to glitter. His eyes light on Remus and he strides over.

"Remus," he purrs. "You want to be more _honest_? More _direct_?"

"Always!" Remus grins. The smile on Deceit's face doesn't reach his eyes.

"No longer will you deceive yourself about the ugliness within you," he says, contemplative.

"Neat!" Remus says. He feels confused, though. Deceit sighs.

"Not you," he says. "_Thomas_. Don't you want to show him what _other_ little surprises hide in here, that he's so vested in suppressing? And you can visit your dear brother again, of course..."

Remus's smile is very sharp.

"It would be a pleasure," he says.

It is a bittersweet one, made all the more so by Roman literally lying at his feet. Logic's contributions don't help, not when he can see Virgil _and_ Patton, and particularly Morality. Morality _fears_ him, and it thrills Remus down to the tips of his boots. 

_I'm not the only one who can be split, Morality,_ he thinks, even as he sinks down in supposed defeat. _Maybe you can, too. Maybe I can split you and you'll be two-in-one and cry and cry and-_

He frowns. Instead of the familiar lines of his own room, he's ended up in Roman's.

It is nothing like his. Instead of grimy, bloodstained walls and a flickering light bulb, the walls are painted blinding white, gilded with gold, and a brilliant chandelier hangs from the middle of the ceiling. Everything is bloody scarlet and burnished gold and bone white and it makes Remus feel sick.

Roman sinks down a few minutes later, and he jumps when he sees Remus, sitting cross-legged in the middle of his floor and humming something.

"What do you want?" Roman asks warily. Remus looks up.

"When's the last time we talked?" He asks. "When's the last time we did anything together?"

"I..." Roman stops. "I don't know," he admits.

"I miss you," Remus says quietly. "I miss being- you know- _us_."

"You knocked me out for most of the video!" Roman says. A ghost of a smile creeps across Remus's face.

"That's called brotherly affection," he says. "Besides, be grateful it wasn't more. I have _lots_ more ideas where that came from."

"I'm sure you do," Roman says dryly, then hesitates. "...Can I see them?"

Eyes shining, Remus dashes to his room to grab them.


End file.
